


Shitty Childhoods Anonymous

by FrogFacey



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, I want to say this is semi-unfinished but I haven't touched it since I put it on tumblr, Implied/Referenced Abuse, i project onto Sal and Travis simultaneously, the sal/travis thing isn't actually explicit at all, wow that's the first time I've used that tag actually, you can read it that way if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 17:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrogFacey/pseuds/FrogFacey
Summary: After a good two weeks (and one shaky one after Travis told him to “fucking drop it”) Sal got a phone call.It wasn’t all that clear, a little distant and hard to make out and quite obviously coming from a payphone. After a second of fumbling and a quiet swearing he heard Travis from the other end of the line say meekly “Can I take you up on that offer?”Or: Travis still has his walls up and it takes a little more than sitting together at lunch and one bathroom conversation to take them down





	Shitty Childhoods Anonymous

Sal learned a lot from observation. 

He knew Larry’s favourite colour (it’s green but only certain shades), he knew that Ashley liked blurry photos (something about “long shutter speed”), he knew Todd’s favourite Ninja Turtle (Donatello. But agreed to go as Mikey on Halloween because he got to carry around nunchucks) and as soon as Travis bailed he knew exactly where he’d be. 

It wasn’t that difficult. After ruling out his bedroom as an option and taking into account the fact that he most definitely was not in his closet (where he probably would be if he weren’t in Sal’s house, the closet is Shitty Childhood Headquarters), there was only really one place left.

It had taken some effort to finally get Travis comfortable being in his house. There was a long talk on the phone about reaching out and being allowed to get out of dangerous situations. Something about not being weak. Something about feeling guilty about leaving his dad. Something something.

After a good two weeks (and one shaky one after Travis told him to “fucking drop it”) he got a phone call. 

It wasn’t all that clear, a little distant and hard to make out and quite obviously coming from a payphone. After a second of fumbling and quiet swearing he heard Travis from the other end of the line say meekly “Can I take you up on that offer?”

And Sal told him his address and stood outside for nearly twenty minutes until he saw the too small looking Travis shaped figure walking down the path.

He wasn’t quite huddled against himself like Sal had expected. He carried himself almost exactly the same as he’d seen every other time. He just looked different.

A little tired maybe?

He sat on his couch looking very out of place, wrapped in the blanket from his bed and holding a frozen bag of peas begrudgingly to his eye.

They were quiet for a long time. Sal didn’t have anything to say really and Travis wasn’t making any conversation. He was grimacing at the carpet, he couldn’t tell if it was from pain or the fact that the peas had been at the back of the freezer for three weeks and had been rendered an ice cube.

Sal said, “So…”

Travis said, “Don’t.”

Good talk.

Sal sat kicking the floor gently. The silence was uncomfortable and he could tell Travis was getting antsy but he didn’t really know what to do.

He couldn’t ask what happened and he wasn’t going to fuss over him because that would make him angry. They couldn’t stay silent sitting in the living room because then nothing would happen and his Dad would come home to two kids staring at the coffee table vacantly and then he’d probably worry that they’d taken off with something from the Morrison’s cupboards.

Travis wasn’t doing any better, still grumbling at the poor excuse for an ice pack. 

Gizmo meowed as he walked in. Or rather, made a Gizmo-esque sound. Gizmo didn’t really meow. Or make much noise, in general, come to think of it. He jumped on the couch, neither noticing nor caring who was there and settled himself next to Travis’s thigh.

He put a hand on his back absently.

“Are you alright?” Sal asked without really thinking. He was grappling at his sleeves at some attempt to keep his train of thought from spiralling off.

“The fuck do you think?” Travis said, gaze still focused on his feet.

“You’re allowed to tell me." 

"And if I don’t want to?”

“Then don’t. But you shouldn’t have to stew in it, you’re safe here.”

“You sound like an after-school anti-bullying special,” he huffed and rolled his eyes, looking up at him from the couch. It sounded like it could have been lighthearted but it lacked all tone that made it a joke.

“I don’t try to.” Sal was smiling at him meekly but it lacked all facial expression that made it a smile.

He huffed again and returned his gaze back to the floor, taking the bag off his eye and dumping it on the coffee table.

“It’ll bruise,” Sal warned.

“Yeah, no shit.” Travis crinkled his nose at him.

Sal pulled a face, “You’re fine with that?”

He didn’t say anything, if it weren’t for his shoulders slumping, he would have been certain he didn’t hear him.

“Travis-”

He looked at him again. Sal couldn’t really place his expression. Half grumbly but hidden mostly on account of how disinterested he looked.

And then he stood up.

And stormed off.

Sal left it for a good minute or two, holding his hand out for Gizmo to squish his face against and taking the peas back to the freezer before it melted all over their table.

When he felt like he’d given it enough he stood up and followed where he saw Travis go, then followed his gut the rest of the way.

“Hey, sorry, I can leave if you’re not comfortable,” he said, knocking on the wall to make sure Travis heard.

He thought that maybe given it wasn’t his house he wouldn’t be that inclined, but Sal did indeed find him sitting on the side of the bathtub 

He glared at him on the way in, his arms tightening around his stomach.

“Fuck off Sally Face,” he spat. Or tried to. It had no venom behind it, he just sounded annoyed.

“Travis, I swear I’m not trying to pressure you into talking to me,” God knows he knew what that felt like, “And I’m not here to make some spiel about how morally you shouldn’t let yourself stay in pain or whatever, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Condescending is what you’re being, actually,” he sounded like he was starting to get his bearings “Oh, whatever will I do without Sally here to look after me? What’ll happen to my poor, helpless, defenceless self? Fuck you, I’ve dealt with worse.”

That last sentence threw him off for a moment. Sure, he guessed as much but… “You shouldn’t have to, though.”

“And yet I am. Funny how the world works like that.”

Sal settled himself against the wall. Travis hadn’t told him to get out yet so he guessed they had a long conversation ahead of them.

It wouldn’t be the first. Travis was still slightly on edge and tended to fall back into old habits whenever he was uncomfortable. Sal guessed it was because he sensed a fight, if only faintly.

He got the same kind of thing around dogs.

Travis sighed and hunched over, gaze fixed on the tiles next to his feet.

“I hate my fucking Dad,” he grumbled, Sal guessed mostly to himself. He grabbed the bottom of his jumper and balled it into a fist, raising his hand almost like he wanted to punch something, then letting it fall back to his lap when he realised he had no steam.

“I just… I just want-” it fizzled out as soon as it left his mouth. He paused for a moment, scowling, but still couldn’t find what he wanted to say.

“I get it,” well, to an extent. He had his fair share of shitty dad based situations “Or… I understand what you’re feeling.”

“Don’t compare your shit to mine.” Travis glared up at him.

“I know. It’s different. It’s really different. But I’ve dealt with this kind of emotional bullshit before, I get what it feels like.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I be draped on a couch while you hold a clipboard and tell me I’m gay because my favourite colour is purple? Who made you the fucking expert?” He almost laughed in disbelief. At least his facial expression changed from just plain or scowling. The worried creases in his forehead were gone and instead, he just looked mildly shocked.

“You tend to pick up on things when you spend half your childhood in therapy.”

Travis groaned and returned his gaze to the floor.

There was a good two minutes of silence. It was quiet enough that Sal swore he heard Travis grinding his teeth, even though he knew that was almost definitely an overactive imagination.

He took a deep breath and Sal glanced up at him, not quite prepared for a soul wrenching confession or for him to tell him to get out, but prepared for something.

“I’m this close to leaving, I swear,” Travis sighed, kicking his heel against the side of the bathtub, “One more fuck up and I’m done. Gone.”

“I could worm you into Larry’s house,” Sal shrugged, only half joking.

“He’d kill me,” Travis gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“Nah, he wouldn’t.” He’d make sure he wouldn’t. They were on their sixth go-round of why Travis was actually a genuinely good person and personal growth and shit.

“It’s just…” He sighed, defeated “So fucking scary.”

“Larry?”

“No, dipshit. Leaving,” Travis glared at him again. He took a deep breath and untensed just a little. He was slipping out of defence mode. Sal was still making sure not to set him off though, because that would be a shitty thing to do to a friend and also because he wasn’t entirely out of it yet “It’s so…”

“Real?” Sal asked.

“Confronting,” he replied “Such a big fucking leap. I’ve been there since I was a kid and I’m leaving literally everything I own and he’s-”

His voice cracked and he stopped, swallowing heavily. When he spoke again it was shaky, “He’s still my Dad.”

Shit, he was crying. Sal wasn’t sure if he should… Pat his shoulder or something? Get him some tissues? He didn’t know Travis’s boundaries.

He resigned himself to loosening and sitting on the floor, open body language and all that. If he was comfortable Travis could do what he wanted next.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeves, swearing quietly. He didn’t like crying in front of people, that much was obvious.

“I hate him. I hate him so fucking much but he’s… He’s my Dad,” He was mumbling through his arms.

Sal didn’t mention it.

“And he’s not meant to treat you like that,” He said. Huge fucking understatement, but still.

“I know,” Travis mumbled back, quieter, “I know…”

Sal stood up and held out his hand. Travis looked up at him blearily, confused at first.

Slowly Travis reached out, taking Sal’s hand weakly.

And Sal took him back out to the living room, where Gizmo was waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a rant that I was going to put here but I forgot it yaaay
> 
> psst, I posted this on my [tumblr](https://dractastic.tumblr.com) also


End file.
